Say It
by BajanDiva
Summary: Sometimes the lines between friendship and lust gets blurred... that's when the fun starts.


**Yeah, Yeah I know. Update _Lips_. Well guess what! I have a new chapter for that in the making. It should be up by tomorrow.**

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She wanted him. Well wanted was too tame a word for it. Really and truly she ached for his touch. There was no other way to put it. There was no other way to describe the feeling that currently resided in her groin.

It started up whenever she had to look at him for any length of time. Whether she imagined running her fingers through his hair (whenever it wasn't cut) or wrapping her legs around his waist it was all the same. Pure, unadulterated lust. She knew it was wrong but no matter what she did she couldn't stop. He popped up in her daydreams and invaded her thoughts when she was asleep. At first she freaked out because she thought she was becoming obsessed but then discontinued that notion when she didn't have the urge to stalk him.

All she really wanted to do was screw him every which way from Sunday.

Which was actually bad in and of itself. And of course because of some unwritten cosmic law he was not only constantly near her, he had just dubbed himself her best-friend. She cringed just thinking about it.

Apparently being his best-friend meant he was almost constantly touching her, whether it be an arm around the shoulder or a light punch. And did she mention the kisses? His new way of greeting his 'BFF' (though he'd never call her that) was a quick peck on the lips or cheek. Then there was the fact that he found it alright to walk around half-naked whenever either one was in the other's room. Granted as a wrestler he spent most of his days shirtless; the point was nothing compared to his hard, muscled chest only centimeters away from her at any given time.

Such things explained why lately she varied from being wound tighter than a ball of yarn, to being tired from being wound so tight. The only time she could truly relax was on Tuesday mornings when she slept in. Everyone knew that this was what kept her sanity in check so that she could continue her week in a relatively good frame of mind. Her co-workers, and even boss, respected this and everyone left her alone. . . Well that is until today.

Dezi cracked open one lead-filled eye-lid and glared at her soon to be ex-best friend, "Randy, get off the bed. Now."

Grinning unrepentantly the self-proclaimed 'Legend Killer' got off the bed the same way he got on: jumped. "It's time to get up Dez."

"I'll get up when I'm good and ready," she snuggled deeper into the covers. "Now go away so I can sleep."

Unceremoniously the covers were yanked from over her. Curling into a fetal position she mentally calculated how many people probably knew he'd come to her room this morning. Was there enough to incriminate her if he wound up missing?

"C'mon! Up and at 'em Sweetheart!"

Knowing Randy the whole floor probably knew he was up here what with all the noise he made.

"Randall Keith Orton," the very tired, very annoyed woman ground out. "If you do not give me back those sheets in five seconds I will-"

"Elbow Drop!!"

Dezi's eyes opened just in time to see Randy's 6'4 frame lift off the ground and come flying towards her. Screaming for all she was worth, she rolled as quickly as she could out of harm's way stopping only when she toppled off the bed and crashed to the floor.

Silence reigned throughout the room as the Boston native counted to ten and Randy stared at her from the protection of her very comfortable bed. He wasn't even sorry. Bastard was grinning down at her in triumph.

"Ready to admit defeat yet?"

It wasn't worth it. At least the floor was carpeted, "I think I'll just sleep here. This carpet is really soft."

Frowning Randy looked around for something else to get her up in. Desire Grandberry really was quite stubborn when she wanted to be. It was half the reason they were such good friends. He wouldn't have half as much fun tormenting her if she did whatever he asked her to. Blue eyes lightened up when he spotted something on her nightstand.

That would do perfectly.

When something wet (and freaking cold!) hit the back of her neck Dezi shot up screaming bloody murder. One glance at Randy holding a now empty glass in his hand and she dove at him.

For such a big man he was surprisingly agile. Ducking and rolling, she barely missed him but miss him she did. He was off her bed and out the door by the time she hit the mattress. Scrambling to her feet the 5'3 female gave chase yelling random threats of dismemberment at his retreating back. He'd pay this time. Oh yes he would pay!

In her effort to reach the St. Louis native Dezi almost crashed into several superstars who had ventured out of their rooms to see what all the hubbub was about. What they met was Randy Orton flying down the hallway with a sheet over his head and Desire in hot pursuit, her shirt and hair wet.

Spotting a very familiar face the tiny brunette sped up, "Get the bail money Beth! I'm killing him this time!"

Elizabeth, better known in-ring as Beth Phoenix, or to most everybody as just Beth, barely had time to blink as her two friends sped by, one laughing maniacally and the other practically spitting fire. Sighing long-sufferingly, the blonde diva went back into her room and back to her bed. That nincompoop Orton was always doing something like this. When Dezi caught him he'd somehow manage to talk his way out of it as always. Why the two didn't just shag and get it over with was beyond everyone in the WWE. All that fighting and chumminess wasn't purely friendship no matter what either said.

Finally seeing an out to his situation Randy dove behind the man who had just entered his field of vision, exiting the room the two were sharing, "John! Save me she's gone crazy!"

John Cena braced himself just in time to have his (supposedly mature) good friend swing him around and use him as a shield against the tiny figure that barreled straight into him. Exhaling sharply he wrapped his arms around a ball of screaming wetness that sounded suspiciously like one of the events coordinator for the RAW brand of the WWE. When mocha colored skin and brown eyes glared up at him Cena sighed, Randy had been at it again.

"What'd he do this time?"

"What didn't he do!?" Pointing a chipped fingernail at the innocent looking man behind John she tried to scratch at him. "That moron woke me up at this ridiculous hour for one! Then he yanked off my sheets, tried to give me an Elbow Drop and **then** dumped water on my head!"

The snickering behind him was met with another attempt to get at Randy by the woman in his arms. Grunting in his effort to hold her down he tried to talk sense into her, "Stop giving Randy an extra key to your rooms and this wouldn't happen Dezi."

"Are you saying this is my fault!" she screeched threateningly. "Firstly **you** said it was the smart thing to do since we were such good friends now! . . . Besides I've got one to his."

"Then stop trying to kill him and take what you get," John replied good-naturedly. "If you're not going to stop giving each other keys then stop trying to hurt him every time he does something childish."

Finally she stilled enough to consider what he was saying. John was making sense. As much as she enjoyed having the ability to barge into Randy's rooms whenever she felt like (she might see him naked one of these days!), it wasn't worth being woken up so early on Tuesday mornings. Unfortunately she valued her sanity more than she valued the slim chance of spotting Randy (and maybe John too since the two were always bunking together) in the nude one of these days.

"Give me back my key Orton."

Blue eyes blinked into brown ones in mild shock. She was actually listening to John? "No."

"Excuse me?" Dezi hissed. "Randall you better give me back my keys right now or I'll…I'll…Tell Beth you were trying to get a peek at her bras again!"

For a moment he paled but then quickly recovered with the cocky grin he was so famous for, "Do that and I'll tell Hardy about your obsession with finding out if he wears multicolored underwear or not."

Well he had her there. Of all the superstars on this roster Jeff Hardy was probably the one she respected the most. Having him find out she was fantasizing about his underwear was not a good idea.

Pouting in defeat she tried again, "Why'd you wake me up so early anyways?"

Knowing he had finally won Randy stepped forward and pulled Dezi from Cena's grasp, scowling at the 'Doctor of Thuganomics' s' grin of approval as his hand slid over the curve of his oblivious best-friend's hips.

"Shopping remember? I still gotta pick up something for your late birthday present and you said you needed some things."

Oh yeah, she'd forgotten about that. She'd made him promise to take her along after he'd bought her a red and white lingerie set complete with crotch-less panties for Christmas. Opening that in front of her entire family was mortifying. Especially when her grandma picked up the panties and asked why there was such a big hole in the front, and if it was some new invention so she wouldn't have to take them off if she needed to use the bathroom.

"Oh yeah I forgot about that," she muttered absently as she tried to bury the memory once again (her mum was still asking questions). "Give me a minute to bathe and get ready."

"Yea I'll go with you," both of them headed back to her room in a significantly quieter fashion than they had exited. "By the way there's this new lingerie store I gotta show you. It even has men's things!"

Dezi stumbled and would've hit the floor if he hadn't caught her (way too easily if you asked her). Men's underwear. A store at least half full of men's underwear. Randy'd want to try on some of those things if not only to show off for the women who were guaranteed to be in the store. Randy in tiny little black silk boxers.

What the heck'd she gotten herself into?

**Tell me what you think.**


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